


(i’ll be the one to) Build You Up

by Kalika999 (kalika_999), winter_angst



Series: Winter’s Keepers [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Brock Rumlow Has A Heart, Christmas Fluff, Everyone Needs A Hug, M/M, low calorie angst, rumrollins week, winter!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21599710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/Kalika999, https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Winter has an annoying hobby and Jack and Brock begrudgingly invite him over for the holidays. It goes exactly as well as expected.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: Winter’s Keepers [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1229045
Comments: 13
Kudos: 77





	(i’ll be the one to) Build You Up

**Author's Note:**

> RumRollins Week contribution done for the Hobby prompt 
> 
> Beautiful art done, as always, by the lovely and talented Kalika999 (who inspired me, hc’d with me and gave me wonderful ideas so honestly this wouldn’t exist without her). I love you 3000! ❤️

Winter could be compared to plenty of animals, depending on what mood Brock was in. A lost dog when he took to trailing behind Brock like his shadow from room to room, a parrot when he felt the need to regurgitate every word said to him all day when returning from errands with Jack, a cat when Winter got reclusive and depressed when the end of his trip approached and he felt the need to curl up in obscure places that were definitely in the way, a crow because if it was shiny, he wanted to keep it. 

Now they weren’t in Hydra, it was more of a harmless hobby than disobedience but that didn’t mean that Winter wouldn’t try and scarf tinfoil from the trash bin or empty cans from the recycling. Jack was better at the talking thing, always less likely to make Winter cry than Brock was when he told him to keep outta the fucking trash. Whatever conversation Jack had with Winter seemed to work — at first.

Brock started to notice the rocks in the house, placed so casually he didn’t think much of them as he chucked them back outside. They always came back however, sitting along the windows in the mud room. Bits of gravel, smooth pebbles, a quartz rock half caked in dirt sitting on a sill that Brock was trying to keep clean. So he gathered them up, aware they’d been they set there and tossed them back outside before furiously running the handheld Hoover over it and muttering under his breath as he continued on his daily cleaning. 

When Jack came home, Winter crawled out of the woodwork and came trooping back inside, mouth already running a mile a minute despite the conversation already going on between Jack and Brock. It was easy to cut him off, a sharp snap of Brock’s fingers had his eyes wide and his mouth shut — leftover conditioning that Brock only felt a little guilty using. 

“Stop bringing dirty rocks into my house, Winter. I fuckin’ mean it.”

“Crystals, Brock.” Winter corrected him and Brock’s jaw twitched. He missed the Winter that just shut up and took his words for law. “Look.”

Winter jammed both hands in his pocket and let the gravel fall all over the nice white table cloth Brock had snagged from some old lady with a cane at a flea market. Brock’s eye twitched and he missed the good ole days of the stun baton. 

“Those are neat, Win. Maybe keep them in your room. I’ll help.” Jack was quick to sweep up the rocks and Winter enthusiastically accepted his offer.

Brock was left seething over a pot of simmering sauce. Upstairs he could hear the tap running and he assumed Jack was showing Winter how to rinse off the rocks so it wouldn’t drag in so much dirt. Brock figured it made it slightly more tolerable. 

After quiet time was imposed and Winter’s door was partially shut, Brock was able to finally claim his husband’s attention for himself. “Another painful day,” Brock grumbled because complaining about Winter was easier than addressing his real concerns about him. 

“He’s keeping himself busy,” Jack replied from the bathroom, a toothbrush in his hand and a smudge of toothpaste on his bottom lip. “That’s what you wanted, remember?”

Brock scowled. Jack was right of course, he was always right and Christ Brock missed the days when Brock was right because his words were law and they never had to worry about complicated shit like this. “Yeah, yeah.” Brock grumbled, turning down the sheets. “Keepin’ himself busy is nice and all but I work my ass off keepin’ up with the place Jackie. I don’t need him dragging dirty rocks in here.”

“They’re not dirty rocks to him,” Jack paused to brush his teeth and Brock rolled his eyes, a bit irked by Jack’s tendency to take Winter’s side whenever Brock brought up issues. Whether it was him inviting himself into the bathroom to talk to them when they were showering or the way he practically begged for attention from them like a neglected labradoodle. 

“Crystals,” sneered Brock. “They’re just fucking rocks Jack and you know it.”

“Not to him.” Jack didn’t seem bothered in the slightest as he rinsed the sink and washed his face. “I think it’s good that he's taking an interest in something he didn’t find in the trash or recycling.”

Brock grumbled under his breath as he peeled off his shirt and pants, slipping into one of Jack’s tees because there was something comforting about being surrounded in excess fabric that smelled like Jack, even if he did look fucking ridiculous. Thankfully Jack knew better than to comment after the last knee to the kidney, though it didn’t stop him from pursing his lips and snarking, “Nice shirt, where’d you get it?” 

Brock ignored his jab in favor of solving the rock problem. Why Winter listened to Jack better was beyond him; the Soldier never argued and took Jack’s instructions with wariness because Jack wasn’t the commander. Now, stripped of their titles, Winter had decided Jack was the commander; wasn’t that fucking peachy? 

“Tell him to keep the rocks outside, Jack. I mean it.” 

Jack got into bed beside him with an exaggerated frown. “Aww Brock, he likes them! I showed him how to wash them off and he says he’ll do it with the hose next time…”

“I don’t need to be stepping on rocks when he leaves them all over the house. It’ll be like the puzzles all over again.” 

Winter found focus occasionally and usually Jack indulged despite Brock’s warnings and Brock was the one who ended up consoling a tearful Winter when pieces he left scattered throughout the house suddenly weren’t where he remembered them. As ridiculous as it was to have a super soldier, taller than him, sobbing into his shoulder, Brock knew that it happening over a missing rock would take the cake in his joke of a life nowadays. 

“That was almost a year ago — you have to stop bringing it up.” Jack tutted playfully, slipping a hand under his shirt to run his palm along Brock’s stomach. “C’mon baby, what’s the harm?”

“Baby?” Brock could feel the sparks of arousal flying with every brush of their skin but that didn’t mean he suddenly could stomach pet names. “You really don’t want me to change my mind.”

“I do,” Jack feigned desperation, leaning into kiss the corner of his mouth. “Please, please, please. Let him keep the stupid rocks.”

Brock didn’t want to. He really, really didn’t because he was certain it would go sideways as all things did whenever Winter was involved. But Jack slipped a hand behind his head, propping it up so he could give him a proper kiss. One of the kisses that stole Brock’s breath and made him feel a bit dizzy while his body thrummed with the need for friction. 

“Alright, fine. Let ‘im keep the stupid rocks… You play a dirty game, Rollins,” Brock mumbled, eyes fluttering. 

“Can I play a game too?”

Brock snapped apart from Jack, cheeks flushed with anger at being interrupted, a bit of embarrassment as he worried what Winter had seen, and the left over flush of arousal in his cheeks. Jack pulled their comforter over their laps, giving Winter an easy smile despite the fact his company was unwanted. 

“I thought nine was room time, Winnie.” 

“It is but I heard you talking about the rocks and-and I’ll keep them so clean Brock! And I’ll keep them picked up. I just thought they looked pretty down in there.” Winter’s hair was ruffled from clearly lying down and he was wringing his hands together nervously, rocking on his heels as he looked down. “Please, Brock.”

Brock would have to remember to thank Rogers for teaching Winter how to beg among the rest of his undesirable new ‘tricks’. Dragging a hand over his face, well aware that there was no way he could say no Winter after being asked in such a manner, he nodded his head. 

“Keep them off the floor, you hear me? And you better — oof.” The hug caught him off guard, his metal arm cold against Brock’s exposed bicep as Winter gave him a squeeze that was nearly too tight before he backed away a few feet with red cheeks. “...wash ‘em.”

“Friends give hugs,” Winter said which made Brock’s stomach do that uncomfortable twist that happened when he reminded just how much they had fucked this guy up. “You two are some of my favorite friends. I brought you this.”

Two pieces of gravel with a speckle of quartz was placed at the very edge of the bed, Winter stepped back quickly. Brock’s chest felt a little tight and his stomach heavy. “Thanks Win,” Jack said easily, plucking one up. “These are really cool.”

Winter’s bashful hesitance turned to beaming and he left without another word, apparently still working on that part of socializing. “We’re gonna have to find another grater if he keeps stealing our driveway,” Brock finally grumbled, taking the rock between his fingers to inspect under the lamplight. It was unextraordinary in every way but Brock set it beside his alarm clock with far too much care. 

•• •• •• ••

Brock doesn’t expect the suggestion that Winter spend the holidays with them to go over well. In fact, he was hardly comfortable with the idea though Jack was insistent that it would be nice to have a real meal. Jack didn’t say the word family because they sure as fuck aren’t that — Winter was an unfortunate nuisance that they were simply trying to deal with. So Brock, hesitantly, agreed that it wouldn’t be terrible to have an extra person in the house. 

“Just cos I don’t wanna do the dishes.” Brock was sure to point out.

Jack gave him one of those indulgent smiles that told Brock he had gotten exactly what he wanted, the smug son of a bitch. Still, Brock couldn’t complain when he kissed him so sweet. Even if it felt strange to hang a stocking between theirs. Brock never did holidays before Jack; family wasn’t something he had experience in and Jack hadn’t taken much of an interest before they moved into his childhood home. 

Steve’s increased disconnection with Winter bothered Brock more than he cared to admit and while he didn’t want to have to fight to have the guy over, he didn’t want Steve to agree so hastily, even suggesting he come a few days before the offered date. Regardless, Winter arrives, fluttering with anxious energy because it was his first Christmas. 

Typically Barnes came out during the holidays but for whatever reason (and to Steve’s apparent dismay) it was Winter. 

“Clint gave me a gift before I left.” Winter held out a picture frame meant for multiple photos. There was one slot filled with a picture of Winter and Clint and some one eyed mutt in a park and three empty ones. “Can we take a picture to put in it?”

As expected, a swell of unnecessary rage filled Brock because this was his fault. If he had grown a pair of balls and actually pushed back against Pierce about the use of the Soldier maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Jack looked up from his coffee, already in uniform for his final day before the long holiday week he had off, and seamlessly injected himself into the conversation. Brock moved the empty pans from the stove top to the sink with more force than was necessary but it felt good to take out his anger on something. 

“Sure. Maybe when the tree’s all done up.”

When Jack left for work Winter followed him out and roamed off toward the woods which was fine by Brock because he always came back in time for lunch. Maybe he was curious what he got to out there (besides gathering rocks) but he tried to keep himself absorbed his own work between jumping to shopping tabs trying to find something for Jack “I don’t want anything” Rollins. 

The calm lasted until Jack put on a Christmas movie and Winter planted himself at their feet, wrapped up right in a throw. 

“I don’t have presents for him.” Jack was once more standing in front of the sink, this time with a razor in one hand and a towel in the other. He looked ridiculous with his scruff half shaved off, but Brock could already imagine his tongue trailing up his scar. 

“Hmm?” Brock wasn’t really listening, lost in the way Jack’s shower damp skin vanished beneath the fold of the towel.

“Winter.” Jack clarified and by his voice, was probably rolling his eyes. The name itself was a cockblock bringing Brock’s wandering mind to the current moment. “I didn’t get him a gift yet. Did you?”

Brock didn’t mean to buy Winter a Christmas gift, it was just there on the shelf beside the lamp he needed and it was on sale so why not. He might have gotten Winter two gifts, actually and Brock might have hand selected each polished precious rock for the set he got him — but that was just because it was easier than ordering online. Brock didn’t trust those sites with his credit card so it was more secure to drive three hours to the quarry to get them himself. 

“Nothin’ special,” Brock reluctantly admitted. “You don’t gotta worry about it — we’ll just tell him it’s from us.”

Jack’s frown only deepened however and Brock could already see him trying to figure out what to buy the ex-Winter Soldier and no amount of arguing ever changed Jack’s mind when he was set on something so Brock didn’t bother. He just sat back against the headboard and enjoyed the way Jack’s back flexed with each movement. Unlike Brock he hadn’t lost much muscle mass, perhaps even toning up more than he had been in the field with all of his DIY work on the house. Brock’s increasingly sedentary lifestyle had taken its toll on his body, though he tried not to think about it too much. Where he used to hardened, bulging muscle had been reduced to a leaner build and his jeans were a bit more snug around the hips and ass area but Jack seemed very grateful for it. 

When Jack wiped away the last of his shaving cream, Brock was up, arms wrapping around Jack’s chest, determined to make use of a quiet night. Winter had seemingly settled versus the nights when he wandered restlessly in the hallways. Jack smiled a bit as Brock’s lips pressed against the dip in his shoulder, and the small scar he had from a stray knife slash. Always so well aware of what Brock was after, he led him back to the bed. 

•• •• •• ••

Christmas morning was the exact headache Brock wanted to avoid, even if he did enjoy placing out the gifts under the tree after banishing an oddly giddy Winter to his room. Something about drinking eggnog and slipping candies and tiny wrapped parcels into stockings was fun; Brock wasn’t a big fan of Christmas before Jack but he was getting into the spirit with it right around the corner.

The tree was full of ornaments. Jack had bought some and so had Brock on one of his ventures into town. Winter had carefully taken them from their boxes and hung them on the Douglas Fir, face screwed up in concentration like he was preparing to snipe a target. He helped string the garland and had been miserable when Brock doubled over laughing at the tinsel stuck between his plates. 

(Jack had helped pull them out.)

There was something about the way Jack kissed him, an arm around his waist, passionate and sweet, with the porch light catching the snowflakes falling soundlessly to a world of pure white snow that made a lump rise in his throat and feelings of guilt gut him. It was good, it was too good and he wasn’t sure he deserved any of it. Not the love Jack had for him, not for the way Winter looked at him with respect and admiration and fondness when Brock could only give back prickly attitudes and indifference because it was all he knew, the only way to cope. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jack pulled Brock’s tear streaked face against his shoulder and thankfully said nothing. “I love you.”

“Merry Christmas, asshole.” He mumbled against his shirt. 

But, all of the Christmas Eve memories aside, Christmas morning was a headache. Winter was up far too early, pacing the hallway sounding like a fucking herd of cattle instead one annoying super soldier. When Brock grudgingly got out of bed, sore from a long night of being reminded how much Jack loved him and annoyed by how Jack seemed to be in high spirits, he didn’t even get a second to enjoy his coffee. The oatmeal he made for Winter was played with, rather than eaten, even though Brock had added mini butterscotch chips to them. 

Winter’s focus was on the tree and yeah, Brock could understand his excitement. He remembered that hope from when he was a kid; even if it was just a few toys from the Salvation Army wrapped up in newspaper there was something magical about it. 

Maybe Brock had outgrown his Christmas spirit but Winter’s was still alive as he tapped his food endlessly. “Cut that out,” Brock barked, taking another gulp from his mug.

“Can we go in yet?” Winter asked, still tapping. 

Brock had said no a dozen times already and at this point he just wanted it done with. “Fine, go.”

Brock was content to sit in the quiet kitchen, away from Winter’s big mouth and too many questions but Jack stole his mug and gestured for him to follow. So, at too fucking early o’clock Jack and Brock were seated on the couch, watching Winter carefully separate gifts like some big happy fucking family. 

Brock hated it. (Or at least outwardly he did.)

“You got me gifts?” Winter asked in amazement, gawking down the bright wrapping paper. 

“It’s got your name on it doesn’t it?”

Winter set it in a new pile as if it were made of glass and carefully picked through verifying each gift with his name was truly for him. Brock got little things he’d requested, and a few things he hadn’t but had his eye on. Jack seemed very pleased with his new chainsaw and the model motorcycle to go in his garage as well as socks and other boring items Brock knew Jack needed. 

Winter was far more impressionable and so grateful it made Brock’s chest hurt a bit. He carefully opened the velvet pouch to spill the stones on his flesh hand, eyes lighting up. He hugged Brock far too tight after he opened the geode he’s found as well. Jack’s gift was a craft kit: paints, markers, some clay, pipe cleaners and little items like it. 

Brock didn’t care that Winter held it like it like it was worth something astronomical either, or that he cleared away all his ‘crystals’ to set the geode in his line of sight from his bed. And if he blushed when Jack told him how sweet he was, it was probably because he was coming down with something. 

•• •• •• ••

When Brock went to make coffee two mornings later he found a pair of eyes staring up at him from the top of the coffee machine. He stared dumbly at the rock for a moment, clumsily painted red with two googly eyes stuck it. 

Brock set it aside and carried on with his morning. At lunch, he found a blue one with larger eyes sitting on top of the cold cuts. Brock was boggled how Winter had even slipped into the kitchen when he was just a room away but the red one was now gone so he set it on the counter in the same place and hoped Winter got the hint.

Brock was ready to kill Jack when he got out of the shower and found a rock painted orange with one small googly eye and one big one propped up on the towel rod. He’d long since stopped wondering why Winter did any of the strange shit he got up to this had to take the cake for irritating and unnecessary. He took the rock and put it in front of Winter’s door, praying to whoever was up there that Winter would catch on. 

He seemed to because for two full days, Brock found no googly eye rocks. He forgot to yell at Jack for it as well — until he found one resting on his pillow. The quality had improved, the paint smooth and even but the big eyes left him feeling deeply disturbed. 

“He’s crafting.” Jack was far too pleased when Brock pointed furiously at it. “And he’s pretty good.”

“He’s leaving them in weird places.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders, a little smile playing on his lips the way it did when he thought Brock was getting worked up over nothing. As usual, it made his blood pressure rise even more. “Jack I swear to God — ”

“They’re rocks, Brock. It’s not a big deal.”

Then, when Jack found one resting on top of the engine of the truck he was slowly rebuilding, he seemed less pleased by Winter’s crafting. He breached the subject over dinner, coming across far more calm than Brock would have.

“They’re rock people.” Winter supplied unhelpfully. “Someone keeps moving them.”

“What did I tell you about your fucking rocks Winter?”

“I don’t leave them on the floor,” Winter insisted.

“They’re nice and all but you catch us by surprise when you leave them places like our bedroom and under my hood.” Jack said. “What if…what if we make them a house or something?”

Winter mulled it over, scooping a mouthful of oatmeal into his mouth before he bobbed his head eagerly. “Can I help?”

“‘Course you can.”

Regardless of how ridiculous Brock thought it was that Jack actually spend time building a wooden house for rocks with googly eyes, Jack was set on it and stubborn as a mule about it. The house debuted two days later with two floors of three rooms. All the rocks but three were on the first floor, staring eerily at nothing. The three on the top floor were in the center room. 

“These ones are us,” Winter said unprompted. “The big one is Jack.”

Deeply offended Brock scowled at it while Jack offered a smile. Winter carried it away and Brock vented about how ridiculous it was that Jack was the big rock seeing as Brock had been commander. Jack placated with him a squeeze of his ass and a kiss to shut him up. 

•• •• •• ••

All in all, Brock didn’t care about the rocks. 

It was just Winter’s stupid hobby and Brock didn’t care about it. If he read up on local rocks that could be found in the area it was just to keep Winter out of his hair. And if he volunteered to help him find them then, well, he was just bored anyhow. 

It was just Winter’s stupid hobby and Brock really, honestly didn’t care. 

(But maybe he did care a little bit.)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [RumRollins Week 2019](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21565687) by [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999), [winter_angst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst)




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